Know Your Regrets
by Elanor90
Summary: Sets off directly after the Season 2 finale: Clarke left her people in order to deal with what happened at Mount Weather. Where does her path lead her? Can she forgive Lexa?


Clarke dragged herself forward, step by step. Being on the move, observing the forest around her as well as the treacherous ground beneath her feet, was good. It kept her occupied. The thoughts were there. All the time. Whenever she stood still to catch her breath, they engulfed her, pressing down on her lungs, hard, suffocating her. So she kept moving.

Hours passed by and the forest around her was beginning to blur into the nearing darkness of the night. Clarke slowed down, then stopped and slowly turned around a whole 360°. There were trees everywhere, and they all looked the same. She was lost. Blinking, she realized that she had practically no recollection of the past few hours. Some part of her brain registered that she was hungry. It didn't matter. Hundreds of dead, burnt faces were beginning to appear around her. Men and women, old people and children. Preschoolers. Babies.

"No!" Clarke screamed hoarsely and stumbled forward. She ran through the forest without any sense direction. Was she continuing down the way she had started? Was she running right back to where she came from? She didn't know. It didn't matter. She had no destination. Nowhere to go. No home.

Darkness fell upon the forest, and it was not long before she finally tripped and fell, head first, down a small hill. Her head hit the ground hard. Clarke registered something warm running down her face, before a new kind of darkness took over and clouded her mind. Then the world went silent.

* * *

The first thing Clarke noticed was the softness beneath her body. She had no idea who or where she was, but she felt as though she was floating on air. She moved her fingers through the soft material that she was apparently lying on and felt herself smile. _Who was she, though? Did she have a name?_ She couldn't remember. A memory of a sky full of stars flashed across her mind. And the image of Earth from far above. She felt tears burn behind her closed eyelids – the beauty of those memories was nearly too much to take. Suddenly, she remembered drawings, hundreds of drawings, and she remembered _drawing_ them. That is who I am, Clarke thought.

She couldn't say how much time passed while she was in that blissful state of unawareness. There were loud noises, people yelling. She opened her eyes, and within a matter of seconds it all came crashing back. The Ark. The 100, sent to Earth. The Grounders, the war, the killing, the Mountain Men, and death… death.

Clarke sat up, her head spinning. She felt like throwing up, but fought the urge. She took a few deep breaths and looked around. She was in a big tent that looked somehow familiar. Her gaze fell upon a majestic chair whose back consisted of crooked branches, winding upwards. She looked down and realized that she had been sleeping on the Commander's bed. Disgusted, she jumped to her feet, but immediately had to sit back down. Once the black blotches had disappeared from her vision again, she got up again, slowly. She walked over to the chair, which was really more of a throne, and touched its armrest. This was where Lexa had been sitting in when she first met her. So much had happened since.

A sudden noise behind her made Clarke turn around, but there was no one to be seen. "Is someone there?" Clarke asked, somewhat angrily. No one answered. Clarke strained her ears, but heard nothing but a few shouts from outside. She didn't really care what was going on. She had no intention of staying.

She would leave soon. Dark blotches were again beginning to cloud her vision and she let herself slide down to the floor, leaning against the Commander's throne.

* * *

When she regained consciousness again, it was because someone was shaking her at the shoulder. "Wake up, _Klark kom Skaikru_. You need to eat and drink."

Clarke stared at the Grounder woman in front of her. "Do I know you?"

"No. The _heda_ sent me. She is busy, but she wants you to eat this." The woman pointed at a plate on the floor. "She will come see you later."

The woman stood up and made her way back to the entrance of the tent. Before exiting, she shot one last look at Clarke and said: "The heda wants you to know that you are safe here. This tent is guarded at all times." Without waiting for a response, the woman left and Clarke found herself staring at the spot where she had vanished. _She wants me to feel safe? As if,_ Clarke though angrily, _what's more likely is that she doesn't want me to escape_.

Once her most immediate anger had subsided, Clarke was able to think clearly enough to realize that she had to take the food. She was hungry; her last meal had been _before_ everything had happened at Mount Weather. How long had it been? Two days?

The Grounder woman had said that Lexa would come and see her later. Clarke felt nothing but anger at the thought of seeing the Commander. But she was also aware that running away from this place was not an option. Not while she was in this weakened condition, anyway.

Having eating everything on the plate, she drained the glass of water that had also been left for her and stood up. She still felt a little dizzy, but less so than before the meal. She walked back to the bed, and graining her teeth in anger at the situation, lay back down. She couldn't help but notice that the pillow smelled like Lexa and another wave of anger swept over her. Her enormous level of exhaustion nevertheless allowed her to fall asleep a lot quicker than she had anticipated.

* * *

When Clarke awoke, night had fallen again. This time her head was clear and sitting up did not cause any dizziness. The room was dimly lit by several lanterns and Clarke's gaze immediately fell upon a figure sitting cross-legged on the floor. The person had their back turned towards her and yet there was no mistaking who it was. Clarke got up and walked around the sitting person, so that they were facing each other. Lexa was sitting in a very straight position, her eyes shut. "Clarke," she said, opening her eyes. Their gazes met in a steady stare and, without breaking eye contact, Lexa got to her feet. "You hate me," she added tonelessly. It was clearly an observation, not a question.

"Why did you bring me here?" Clarke snarled.

Lexa blinked, twice. She had anticipated many questions, but not this one. "One of my warriors found you in the woods. You had passed out, not far from here. I assumed this was the destination you had had in mind. I assumed you _wanted_ to see me… to kill me, maybe."

Clarke stared at her for a moment, then, breathing heavily, she said: "Seeing you does indeed make me want to kill you. Which is exactly why I did _not_ want to see you. In some part of my brain I still know that we are better off with you as the Commander than with some other dipshit. But…" she paused to take a deep breath, "I am having difficulty making another decision with my _head_ and not my _heart_."

Clarke herself was almost surprised at how the hatred was audible in every syllable of her words and a part of her cheered silently as Lexa flinched ever so slightly.

"Clarke," Lexa said quietly, "You must understand that I had no choice. My people had been suffering from the Mountain Men for generations. _Generations_ , Clarke! Kidnapping and killing our people, turning them into Reapers!" Lexa's voice was steadily rising, and while her face was calm and emotionless as ever, her eyes betrayed her true feelings: they were sparkling with fire. "They made me an offer I could not decline. They gave me the opportunity to rid my people of their threat, once and for all, and I took it. I'm sorry, Clarke, but no matter how much I hate to hurt you, I would make the same choice all over again."

Clarke felt her heart beating heavily against her chest. "We could have saved your people, and mine, together! Maybe it wouldn't have changed the outcome – but probably it would have. They wouldn't have had any chance against all of us; they would have surrendered!"

"What's done is done, Clarke! There is no use in pondering on past events that cannot be changed!"

"I relied on you! I _trusted_ you."

"My people come first, always."

Clarke shook her head in disbelief and her cheeks were flushed from her rage. "You always say 'blood must have blood'. You ordered Finn's death for killing 18 people – and yet you let the Mountain Men go? I don't get you, Lexa, you don't even hold true to your own morals. You are despicable."

Lexa blinked at Clarke's last words, but showed no other sign of emotion. And yet Clarke knew her well enough to recognize that Lexa did not take those words lightly.

"Do you truly not understand, Clarke? We had no idea how it would all end. We had a plan, yes, but we did not have any certainty that we would win. The Mountain Men could have had things in store for us that we had not anticipated. There was simply no way of knowing. They told me how your people's bone marrow was a permanent solution for them – how they would never need my people's blood again. So, don't you see? I was given the opportunity to get rid of the horror my people had been suffering from for the past century. No matter whether the Sky People or the Mountain Men would win this war, I knew my people would be safe from a threat they had suffered from for such a long time."

Lexa paused, and hatred was clearly edged into her expression when she said: "Believe me, I wanted to fight them, to kill every single one of those murderers. And yes, we live by the moral that blood must have blood. But a good leader knows when to diverge from tradition. I saw a chance to save my people and I did." Lexa cast her eyes to the floor and when she looked up again a second later, there was some other emotion visible in her face. _What was it? Sorrow?_

"I am truly sorry that I could not stand by your side in this war. If had been anyone but the Commander, I would have stayed with you and fought till the end. I will not ask for your forgiveness, but I ask for your understanding. Do you understand, Clarke?" Lexa's face had now taken on an expression of mild desperation. "You would have done the same in my place, Clarke, wouldn't you?"

Clarke stared at Lexa. She was suddenly reminded of how young the Commander actually was, no more than a few years older than herself. And yet Lexa had already fought several wars, killed countless people and had ordered the deaths of even more. Clarke had been a leader for only a few months and already it was crushing her, even threatening to break her. Lexa had been carrying the weight of leading her people for _years_.

"Lexa," Clarke whispered and moved forward. She raised her hand and trembling touched the other girl's face. She traced remnants of paint still visible on Lexa's cheek. Her fingers moved down the side of Lexa's face, across her jaw, finally reaching her neck. Clarke could feel the rapid heart beat beneath her hand and realized her own heart was racing as well. She raised her eyes and found that Lexa was still staring at her, unmoving. Unconsciously, Clarke was moving her face forward and found herself so close to the girl's face that she could hear her breathing. She took in Lexa's scent, which had become vaguely familiar, and her hand moved from Lexa's neck down to her throat and collar bones. She felt Lexa's chest rise and fall beneath her hand. Her gaze was lost in the deep green of the Commander's eyes; Clarke felt intoxicated, nothing seemed to exist any longer, except for the two of them.

When their lips finally touched, neither could have said which of them had closed the final space between them. _It didn't matter_. All that mattered was the feeling of Lexa's lips on hers. The kiss was slow and tender at first, but a sudden urgency made Clarke grab Lexa's shoulders rather roughly and deepen their kiss. Clarke felt Lexa's hands on her waist, beneath her T-shirt, and felt her thumbs caress her skin. For some reason, Clarke found that this triggered her to become even more aggressive and the next thing she knew was that she had forced Lexa up against a wooden post. She dug her fingers into Lexa's shoulders and kissed her fiercly. With some difficulty, Lexa broke their kiss. "Clarke, slow down," she managed to say, before Clarke's lips were back on hers, even more aggressively. Lexa tried to push her away without being too rough, but this only seemed increase Clarke's aggression.

All of a sudden, Clarke found herself stumble backwards. Lexa had shoved her, hard. Furious, she stared into the Commander's face and saw with surprise, but also with a dark satisfaction, that Lexa's lips were rather red and swollen.

"Clarke, what is going on?" Lexa said hoarsely.

Clarke felt her anger rising. She herself wasn't quite sure what had happened. But somehow the tenderness she had felt for Lexa when they had started kiss had turned into passion, which in turn had turned into anger… into _hate_.

"You just left me there, Lexa," Clarke said, her voice shaking from rage. "You left me with no choice but to kill them all. I killed hundreds of people. I let them burn, brutally, painfully. Children. Babies. _Babies, Lexa!_ "

Clarke turned away and had no strength to suppress a sob. "I am a child murderer."

Clarke felt a hand on her shoulder, and tried to shrug it away. But Lexa would not let go, instead forcing Clarke to turn around and face her. "You did what you had to. You showed great strength in doing so."

Clarke's sparkled with angry, unshed tears. "So killing children is a sign of strength?"

"Listen to me, Clarke. You have to find a way to separate your feelings as a person from the choices you make as a leader. We live in a harsh world, Clarke. It's kill or be killed, and you know it. The Mountain Men left you with no choice. Deal with it!" At this, Lexa let go of Clarke's shoulder and walked away. Before exiting the tent, she hesitated and then added: "If you keep hating yourself like this, it will destroy you, Clarke. Don't let that happen." Then she was gone.

Clarke let herself drop to her knees. Hugging herself, she felt the tears finally rolling down her cheeks. She bent forward and let herself be consumed by pain and grief.

* * *

Author's Note: I know this was very angsty, but how could it not be after what Clarke went through at Mount Weather? Let me know what you think! I am totally up for constructive criticism; no need to hold back! Cheers!


End file.
